A Secondhand Murder (13 page)

The doorbell rang, saving Madeleine from injury by my good hand. Frida stood there.

“
What's this about a knife?”

I told her about finding the blade and cutting myself.

“
Let's have a look at it.”

I held up my bandaged hand.

“
No. The knife.”

“
Someone came into the shop while I was in the bathroom trying to stop myself from bleeding to death.”

“
Who?”

“
I have no idea, but the person went out the door just as Alex entered. I think the bell startled her, so she smooshed it flat to keep it from ringing again. Alex saw her leave. What did you tell me she looked like?”

I took a sip of the tea. Not so bad. Actually, I was feeling pretty fine. The throbbing in my hand was letting up a bit, and I felt buoyed by the knowledge that Alex could identify the visitor. This case was fast coming to a close.

“
I didn't. I'm not going to be much help. She looked like every other rich matron from the coast. Above average in height, I guess, although she was wearing heels. She had on huge, round sunglasses. Her hair was blonde, but she might have been wearing a wig. She had on a pleated navy skirt, red blouse, and white blazer.”

He was right. An APB put out with that description would have netted the authorities every patron in the Neiman Marcus store at City Place.

I sighed. We were no further along on this case than we had been the day Valerie died. Only now, because Jerry had blabbed to Alex, I also had to worry about Alex telling Frida what he knew about our relationship.

“
I think I might be able to clear up some of the questions about Valerie and Eve.” Alex cleared his throat, as if nervous.

Here we go. I sank back into the couch cushions and yawned. Inwardly my nervous system was on high alert.

“
I don't know what Eve has told you.” Alex looked at Frida. “She sometimes likes to parcel out half-truths.”

I perked up. “And you don't?”

He ignored me. “I was hired by Mr. Sanders, who was concerned about his wife. He paid me to follow her.”

“
Why was he concerned?” asked Frida.

“
He didn't say. I originally assumed that I was dealing with a divorce case and that I would be gathering evidence against her. Then I met Eve. Mr. Sanders saw the two of us at the funeral and thought we seemed too friendly for his taste, so he fired me. With Valerie dead, I wasn't surprised that my services were no longer needed, but I was shocked at his rabid dislike of Eve. I wouldn't be telling you this—client confidentiality and all—but I got an interesting story from Jerry, very similar to the one I heard from Sanders.”

Frida looked interested. “Go on.”

“
Please do.” If I put anymore acid in my voice, I'd be spitting lemon seeds.

“
Sanders invested some money with Jerry and lost it. The fault wasn't Jerry's, for once. The investment opportunity looked good in the beginning, but proved to be much like the Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme. Sanders knew that Jerry had been cleared of any criminal involvement. Valerie, however, found out that Eve was Jerry's wife and, well, that set her on fire. There was Jerry's wife in her sights. She even threatened to pull her clothes out of the store. That's what the fight was about.”

I breathed an inward sigh of relief and told my heart to stand down. The investment scheme gone bad was a part of what Valerie and I fought about, but it wasn't the important part. I smiled.

“
Well, that's kind of what I told you.” I looked at Frida.

“
No, it's not at all what you told me,” she said. “If Valerie was planning to pull her items out of your store, that would mean a loss of income for you.”

“
Not a reason for murder, if that's where you're going with this. She didn't threaten to pull her stuff out of the store. She couldn't. We had a signed contract. All our clients do.”

Outside the front windows, I saw a car pull up. A woman with white hair got out. Oh, oh. Now things were going to get interesting.

“
G
randy!” I jerked open the front door. The short, rotund woman standing there threw her arms around me.

Worry lines etched her forehead. “What's wrong, Eve? All is not well here, is it?”

Whenever my grandmother shows up, I wonder if she is there to rescue me or cause more trouble. We have very similar personalities. Why wouldn't we? We are blood relatives, and she raised me from the day my parents' sailboat went down in the Sound. Their bodies were never recovered. I was nine then, and I can hardly remember a time before she came into my life. To me she is my Grandy and my mother.

Madeleine took one look at the woman in the doorway and flew across the room to embrace her.

“
It's my little Madeleine.” Grandy enveloped her in a hug. “You gotten into any trouble lately?”

Madeleine stole a glance in the direction of the kitchen, blushed and shook her head.

Grandy bore a striking resemblance to Paula Dean and was often mistaken for her, but once she opened her mouth, everyone could tell my Grandy wasn't the famous television cook. Her accent was pure Connecticut blueblood. Her secret was, she wasn't gentry at all. She had worked most of her life as a servant to the wealthy and was very good at imitating their speech.

“
Max and I just got back from a week-long trip and nothing was on our calendar,” she said, “so I thought I'd drive down here to see what was wrong in your life.”

I introduced her. She wiggled bejeweled fingers at everyone in the room then approached Alex with her hand held out. He reached out as if he meant to plant a kiss on her plump fingers, but instead he softly patted it. In return for his gallantry, she gave him one of her famous coquettish smiles. Even at seventy-five my Grandy oozed allure.

“
So I see not everything is amiss.” She continued smiling at him. Then she turned her attention to Frida. “But something is. A police detective, huh?” She grabbed the glass out of my hand and took a sip of it, wrinkling her nose at the taste. Plopping herself onto the couch, she patted the cushion next to her as a gesture for me to join her.

“
Max isn't with you?” I asked. “I thought you said there was nothing on the schedule for a while.”

Her eyes slid away from my gaze for a moment, then reconnected. “He's doing an overhaul of the boat engine. He said I should get out of his way and, since I had a dream about you last night, I thought I'd stop by.”

Max was Grandy's third husband. The two of them ran a charter fishing boat out of Key West. Like all the Key West men over fifty, Max sported the Hemingway beard and mustache combination. He even entered the Papa Hemingway look-alike contest, which he had won several years in a row. Not lately, however. For, while “Papa” never aged, Max did, and the loss of hair put him at a disadvantage against the younger competitors.

“
Enough about me.” Grandy said, turning her attention to Frida. “What kind of trouble has Jerry gotten Eve into now?'

“
Jerry?” asked Frida.

“
My Eve is a good girl, within reason, of course. She does have her playful side, as I'm sure you've discovered, Mr. Montgomery.” She threw a suggestive look his way.

“
Call me Alex.”

“
Alex. Anyway, having a husband who plays as loose with the rules as Jerry does is bound to bring on a load of trouble.”

“
You'll be happy to know I divorced him.”

“
When?”

“
Yesterday. He's getting married again, though. Soon.”

Frida, Alex, and Madeleine filled Grandy in on Valerie's death, the car bombing and my more recent encounter with the knife.

“
So how's the black SUV fit into this?” she asked.

“
Huh?” I said.

“
The one that keeps driving by here. There it goes again.”

We all ran to the window and, sure enough, a black SUV with chrome wheels slowed in front of the house then sped up again, probably because of all the faces staring out through the glass.

“
Half of the people in this town own a black pickup or SUV. Anybody get the plate number?” asked Frida. “I couldn't see because the sun was reflecting off of it.”

No one else had even thought to check.

Frida got out of her chair. “I'm going out to the cruiser. If the vehicle comes by again, I'll follow it. You guys stay away from the window so we don't scare him off. Before I go, Eve, I've got some information about your car.”

“
Faulty wiring?”

“
In a manner of speaking. Someone planted an incendiary device under your car, but whoever planted the bomb was incredibly stupid. That was the worst homemade bomb the arson boys had ever seen. It was dumb luck that it went off when it did. It was just as likely to blow when they were planting it as when you were driving.”

Oh, now, that was comforting.

With the words “incredibly stupid” and “dumb luck,” an image of my ex-husband flashed through my mind. Why was that, do you think?

“
I can give you more details later.” Frida dashed out to the police car, got in, and slid down in the seat. After a few moments, her head popped up and she signaled us to get away from the window.

Speaking of “incredibly stupid.” We all took the seats that we had occupied before, except Madeleine, who slid beneath the window so that she could peer over the sill every few seconds.

“
Go make some coffee.” I waved her away from the window.

Madeleine looked at me with hurt in her eyes but stormed across the room and into the kitchen. I remembered the earlier episode with the iced tea just a little too late. By letting her roam free in my kitchen, I was just asking for more trouble, but I didn't have the heart to tell her not to bother with the coffee.

Alex turned his attention to Grandy. “Are you psychic? You said you felt something was wrong here?”

She chuckled at first, and then erupted into rumbling laughter. “I wish I were. I had a dream about you, darling, but that was after I got the message from you on my cellphone.”

“
I left that days ago.”

“
We get lousy cell service when we're out on the water. What's up? Something to do with Jerry, right?”

“
Kind of.” I wanted to talk to Grandy about Valerie Sanders, but I didn't want to have the conversation in front of the others, not even my best friend Madeleine, and certainly not Alex. “Madeleine. Come out here.”

“
I'm making coffee like you said.”

“
Never mind the coffee. I could use a pizza or some ribs. I'm starved. Maybe you and Alex could do a run to the Burnt Biscuit and get us all something.” I turned my attention to Grandy. “I'll bet you're hungry after your drive, right?”

“
They deliver. I'll put in a call.” Madeleine grabbed the kitchen wall phone. “What does everyone want?”

I gave up. “Grandy and I haven't seen each other in months. We can catch up while you two do the hunting and gathering thing.”

I thought that was pretty direct, but Madeleine persisted, trying to fill my shoes as a good hostess and oblivious to the request for privacy.

“
I'm sure you have a lot to say to each other, but you need food, Eve. Besides, they deliver. We can save gas …”

Alex grabbed the receiver out of her hand and led her gently to the front door. “We'll be back soon,” he said, waving.

Madeline protested, “We don't even know if they want ribs or pizza. With or without fries or slaw. Coke or Pepsi—”

“
We'll get a little of everything.” Alex opened the door and nudged her through.

I watched them drive off in Alex's car. Frida's head appeared over the top of the seat of her cruiser. She shot a look of disgust my way and shook her head, then disappeared once more below the level of the car window.

With everyone gone, Grandy and I could talk girl stuff, but she surprised me.

“
I've got some news for you. Max and I have decided to downsize a bit.”

“
What's wrong?” I was suddenly aware of my Grandy's advancing years and worried that she and Max might be having health problems. “Are you and Max okay?”

She laughed, but I saw worry in her eyes.

“
Oh, we're fine. It's the economy that's the problem. We've been running charters out of Key West for over twenty years now. The dock fees are killing us. They go up every year and our boat keeps getting older, just like us. In order to pick up enough charters to pay our fees
and
make money, we'd have to re-equip the boat or get a new one. We're just too damn old for that.” She sighed. “Besides, we don't have that kind of money. To compete with the other charter companies, we would have to buy a much larger boat.”

She shifted about on the couch and added, “Folks nowadays want to fish, yes, but they also want an upscale experience—Jacuzzi tub in their room, gourmet meals three times a day, fancy dining area, fully equipped bar. We can't afford that.” She jumped up from the couch and walked over to the window.